


will you be with me when darkness falls?

by secretfeanorian



Series: made of starlight [11]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings Online
Genre: F/M, more word vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 16:37:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8631175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretfeanorian/pseuds/secretfeanorian
Summary: “You know I don’t blame you?” It washes over her like a benediction. A bitter, unwanted benediction. “I don’t. I’m glad one of us got away…”





	

_The heaviness that I hold in my heart’s been crushing me.  
_

* * *

Rawlind turns away from the hill Aragorn has been watching the Camp from. Faeron and Mincham are talking in hushed tones a short distance away and they turn to nod at her. Rawlind’s heart is still racing from their venture into Narchost, but she manages a collected nod in their direction.  
  
Naerwen is standing nearby with her back to Rawlind and the lore-master makes her way over to the elf. The scholar turns as she hears Rawlind’s approach. “Saerestel tells me you went to the plain of Dagorlad to scout for Elessar.” Without waiting for confirmation, she continues with, “How are you feeling?”  
  
Rawlind opens her mouth, then stops to actually consider the question. “Tense,” She admits, “I think I’m still half-expecting an orc to jump out at me.”  
  
Naerwen chuckles for a moment, then lays a hand on Rawlind’s shoulder. “That plain is a dreadful place; I must confess I am glad you were the one he asked, rather than me.” Rawlind snorts for a strange sort of amusement, and Naerwen smiles.  
  
“Naerwen!” Famaer pops up next to the two women and Naerwen jumps, then punches her in the arm. She starts to laugh and Rawlind grins. Famaer reaches over and shoves Naerwen lightly. “Could you give us a moment, Rawlind?”  
  
Rawlind blinks, and then nods. “Don’t let me keep you,” She says, smirking, and Naerwen glares at her. The expression lacks any real heat however and Rawlind chooses to simply ignore it as she leaves the two to speak privately.  
  
She spots Ilordeth and Torilnion speaking with their heads pressed together and jokingly shudders as she passes, causing the sisters to make identical faces of what is _probably_ annoyance. “You looking for Lothrandir?” Torilnion shoots after her retreating back and she stops.  
  
“I wasn’t, but now you’ve made me worried,” She says, turning back around to face them. She is certain her face reads worry despite her attempts to conceal it and Torilnion suddenly looks guilty.  
  
“No, he’s fine last I saw…” She draws off, then adds: “Sorry.”  
  
Rawlind can’t help but laugh at the absurdly sheepish expression on the youthful elf’s face and she waves off the apology. “Where is he though?” She asks, her mind having been focused to Lothrandir and while Torilnion was only teasing, she finds herself irrationally concerned for his present safety now that the topic has entered her mind.  
  
“I’m not sure where he is now, Rawlind,” Ilordeth speaks up. “Last I saw him, he was by one of the tents west of here, but that was a while ago.”  
  
“Oh,” Rawlind responds, then her rationality returns and she shoves away the birthed notion that something could’ve reasonably happened to Lothrandir within the bounds of the camp in broad…ish daylight. Still… She nods to Torilnion and then Ilordeth and then moves in the direction Ilordeth had pointed out, leaving them to whatever scheme they had been concocting before she’d interrupted.  
  
She doesn’t find Lothrandir where the minstrel had last seen him, but – wandering down the path already beaten down in between the tents – she spots him not far off by one of the makeshift horse pens and rubbing Daefaroth’s head.  
  
She clears her throat as she approaches, not wanting to startle him, but he doesn’t seem to hear her and only notices her presence when she pokes him in the shoulder. When she does, he jumps, causing Daefaroth to jerk backwards, and then he turns to look at her.  
  
“Sorry,” She whispers, embarrassed, but Lothrandir’s face brightens when he sees her.  
  
“You’re back safe!” He says, sounding overwhelmingly relieved and hugs her close to his chest. Rawlind is taken off-guard by the hug at first, but soon tightens her hold on him in return. They stand like that for a while, soaking in each other’s proximity before Rawlind starts to feel guilty about not immediately looking for him once she’d finished speaking with Aragorn. However, she only gets a few seconds into this thought process before Lothrandir pulls back and fixes her with a stern look, as if he can tell what she’s thinking.  
  
“I know what has been asked of us and what it entails, Rawlind,” He says, “And I understand the risks for both of us and – for my part – accept them. Therefore, I must accept that you have chosen the same.” There is a quiver to his voice as he says it, however, and Rawlind doesn’t respond; just pressing closer. For her part, she knows she would rather Lothrandir had stayed behind in Minas Tirith, where it was safe (for now). But if she had her way entirely, the whole cursed war would be over and through and they would all be back safe in Minas Tirith.  
  
Finally, she pulls back, looks him in the eye, and tries to smile. She doesn’t quite manage it, but Lothrandir doesn’t comment on it. He only walks over to one of the campfires, sitting on the ground beside it. Rawlind follows and rests her head on his shoulder.  
  
“Did you ever think we would see this?” Lothrandir suddenly asks and when Rawlind looks, his eyes are distant.  
  
Instead of answering right away, she looks around and takes it all that “this” encompasses. “A few years ago, I never would’ve dreamed of this even being a possibility.” She eventually answers, “I didn’t even know…” She pauses, trying to think of a phrase or sentence to describe where they have found themselves. She comes up empty handed and sighs, then shrugs. Lothrandir chuckles, his eyes once again on her.  
  
They fall into a thoughtful silence, each listening to the sounds of the war-host around them. The camp is on edge and the tension bleeds into Rawlind’s body. The detachment on the fields several days before is unattainable now, and she bites her lip. The days lying before them are a mystery and she has to remind herself that they haven’t won yet. **People** could still die. And likely would. Spurred by this sudden fear, she blurts out; “You know I love you, right? Really, really love you?”  
  
Lothrandir turns startled eyes on her, but she thinks they don’t appear as startled as they could be. The growing darkness must weigh heavily on him too. “Yes.” He says quietly. Then he pulls her into a tight embrace, pressing his nose to her hair and breathing deeply. “And I love you too.” The air between them in that moment is tainted somewhat by fear, both of them sensing the other’s worry and doubt over the uncertainty of the coming days.  
  
“Yeah…” She whispers finally, then giggles just a little bit. Lothrandir sighs, but it’s clear to her that the sigh is one of amusement, rather than annoyance.  
  
“Hey Rawlind?!” She hears someone calling, and the sigh that comes out of her _is_ one of annoyance. Then she pulls back and sits up straighter.  
  
“Over here, Ro!” She shouts and Lothrandir winces slightly, leaning away and covering the ear she’d practically yelled into. She blushes and whispers, “Sorry about that.” Lothrandir grins and tugs on the braid dangling on her shoulder teasingly.  
  
Rofara comes into view, twin swords slung over her shoulder and her usual bow nowhere to be seen. She stops when she sees Rawlind and Lothrandir sitting close together, but then she presses on. “Have you seen my bow, I think Torilnion moved it somewhere to mess with me.”  
  
Rawlind’s brow furrows; Torilnion had seemed like she was up to something, but she eventually shakes her head. “I haven’t seen it, but I think Galreyn might have been the one to move it.”  
  
The broad woman narrows her eyes, then nods. “You’re probably right. The little brat’s been messing with me all day.”  
  
Rawlind laughs at Rofara’s accusing tone. Galreyn has, for as long as Rawlind has known him (which, granted, is only four years), had a habit of picking up things that don’t really belong to him and then putting them down in strange places as he realizes what he’s done and it never ceases to be irritating. (Although it is fairly amusing if someone else’s belongings have fallen victim to his kleptomania instead)  
  
Rofara stares at Rawlind until she coughs and stops laughing, and then smiles. “My apologies for disturbing you.” She says before leaving, presumably to find Galreyn and yell at him.  
  
When Rawlind turns back to Lothrandir, he isn’t even trying to conceal his own amusement. “Will he ever learn?” He asks when he sees Rawlind’s attention is once again on him and she snorts.  
  
“Probably not,” She mutters, “But hey, more entertainment for the rest of us.”  
  
Lothrandir raises one eyebrow. “I seem to recall you sounding very irritated on previous occasions when he’s wandered off with your staff.”  
  
“Or that one time when he stole one of my boots when we were on the road and then put it down as we were walking. I never did find that damn boot.” She grumbles and Lothrandir bursts out laughing at the petulant tone in her voice. She glares at him, but he continues laughing for several minutes, and her glare is short-lived in the face of his laughter. Despite all the recent death, and the vast fog surrounding the future, his cheer is in this moment undaunted.  
  
Sensing her churning thoughts, Lothrandir stops laughing and reaches to hold her hand. From somewhere nearby, she hears Fea crying; a piercing sound that echoes across the camp. For some reason, this brings a smile to her face.  
  
Unseen by Rawlind, Lothrandir adopts a thoughtful, yet concerned expression as he stares in the direction of the call. He suddenly comes to a decision and takes a deep breath. “You know I don’t blame you?” He says and Rawlind’s eyes shoot to him, confusion evident. After a moment to think, they widen, then slam shut. “I don’t.” He repeats, tone firm, however quiet. “I am glad one of us got away and I am glad it was you.” To an unobservant eye, Rawlind appears to be ignoring him, but he is not unobservant and she knows he can feel her trembling. “Saruman underestimated your cunning, and that proved to be his eventual downfall.”  
  
Rawlind snorts, finally reacting. “Saruman would’ve been beaten back without my being there.”  
  
“Maybe at Helm’s Deep, but it was not just there that you were working against him after you escaped.” Silence. Lothrandir presses on. “And had you not escaped, Saruman would’ve broken us both.” Rawlind turns her eyes to him, startled out of her avoidance. He smiles self-deprecatingly. “Saruman would not have remained blind to my concern for you, even if he had for yours. He would’ve used that against me; against us. And I could endure any torture he could inflict, but if he had done the same to you and made me watch, I would have broken. I would have broken and I would have broken quickly.” He leans over and hugs Rawlind tightly; like she might disappear into thin air.  
  
Rawlind sits in his embrace, finally whispering, “I am still sorry I had to leave you behind.”  
  
“I know.” Lothrandir replies, “I have no doubt I would be too, in your place.” He shudders suddenly at the thought. “I just wanted you to know…” He draws off, sounding slightly embarrassed.  
  
“It helps to hear it,” Rawlind mutters to his shoulder and she feels him smile just a little. Guilt still wracks her at the memory, but she means it: the weight on her heart seems a little lighter now and she thinks that maybe…one day, it won’t be there at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Torilnion is my lightning rune-keeper, Rofara is my champion, and Galreyn is my burglar. All 12 of my characters will probably eventually make an appearance. (Ok, fine, I have 13, but Silmarili doesn’t exist)
> 
> That list is comprised of: my hobbit hunter Dathla, my human burglar Galreyn, my elven minstrel Ilordeth, my human lore-master Rawlind, my elven guardian Saerestel, my beorning Marlif (who kind of isn’t a beorning in this, but she still exists), my elven lightning rune-keeper Torilnion, my human champion Rofara, my elven fire/healing rune-keeper Naerwen, my elven warden Famaer, my dwarven guardian Sabgeir, and my human (obviously) captain Wesa.


End file.
